Ignite
by saeglopurs
Summary: Clarke is traveling with Claire and doing everything she can to keep her alive. When she realizes that traveling with a group is the safest thing for Claire she makes the decision to join Rick, even if that means being around a certain southerner who knows just how to get on her nerves and make her like it anyway. [Daryl Dixon/OC]
1. Prologue: 60 Days Earlier

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, it's plot or characters. This will be following the TV series. Some events may be different, but the story will follow the TV skeleton pretty much.

This is a story about adults, acting like adults, doing adult things - it is rated Mature for a reason.

Gracelynne Clarke hasn't seen Georgia since she was a fifteen year old girl. On a whim, she decides to take some time off from work and visit her old home. What is supposed to be a few days away, quickly becomes more. Now Clarke is stuck in the deep south, fighting to keep herself, and Claire, a young tag-a-long who just lost her mother, alive. Clarke wants nothing more than to keep to herself in this new world, but a group of survivors want otherwise.

What Clarke wants is just to survive, but Daryl Dixon wants her to _live_.

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><p>The sun was just beginning to fall into the horizon, and we were just beginning to get somewhere recognizable. Although it was falling into its cradle, I knew that it would be a while before we were fully cloaked. The air had turned to this crisp, leafiness that promised flourished trees and the greenest of grass. With the windows rolled down, and the radio playing some old, soft country tunes, there was a pleasantness that proffered the slightest nostalgia. "Are we there yet?" Claire broke the hum that had settled on us like a welcomed blanket in the crisp cool evening.<p>

I glanced over at her, giving an aggravated shake of my head. "I've told you to stop asking me that." She'd actually been quite for the last half hour, her nose pressed inside one of the _Vampire Academy _books I'd been letting her borrow.

Claire dog-eared the page before stretching in her seat. "Yeah but you said you'd tell me when we're close, we've been driving for like _hours._"

"It hasn't even _been_ an hour since you last asked me," I snapped back, silencing her. I sighed. "We're almost there." She didn't say anything in response, but tucked herself into her seat and looked out the window. We were consumed by the buzzing silence, until her stomach growling broke that. It wasn't just a simple growl either; it was a treacherous, barking sound that demanded to be acknowledged.

"Claire," I said slowly. "When was the last time you ate?" I was asking, but somehow I knew it'd been a while. It didn't surprise me, I knew her mother. It was probably why I had taken her with me, which, when I thought about it, could lead to some legal problems. She wasn't mine, she was in no way related to me, but when I went into her apartment and found her mother dead in her bed, having overdosed it was all I could think to do for the young girl. I'd already planned the trip, though. I'd taken time off, rented a Ford pickup, and packed some bags – I was looking to spend some time with my roots, but never intended on having a tag-along.

I'd known Claire for quite a few years. She was my neighbor in the apartment complex. She was always wandering around, and I came to know her mother as well – negligent, abusive, uncaring. It wasn't my place to rid Claire of her only living relative, so I didn't, but I often invited her over to join me at my meal times. I didn't want to like her, but she had a way with getting under my skin. Still, with my crazy work schedule I wasn't always around to keep an eye on her. She'd just lost her mother, but she wasn't acting like it. I was waiting for that to hit her, because it would. I'd done a psychiatric rotation last year during my first year working at Johns Hopkins Hospital. I knew it was going to happen. I knew that it needed to.

She didn't say anything, but her fleeting glance gave me the answer. "Mind if we stop at the grocery store?" We were pulling into my hometown now, and the familiarity of it was causing bouts of nausea to roll in. I hadn't been here since I was fifteen, back when my father was alive.

"Sweet Georgia," Claire murmured, her head halfway out the window. I smiled as I pulled into the parking lot of the Trader Joe's. There were a few cars there, but it wasn't nearly habited as I thought it would be. There were plenty of people walking the sidewalk, heading home no doubt as it was nearing five o'clock. We hit the ground, and did the shopping that was necessary, probably over-shopped. I was never very good at food shopping. We'd picked up the essentials first: milk, eggs, bread, and the ingredients for some old fashioned sweet tea. We practically cleared out the snack section, filled up with different meats that would do well on the grill, and then finished with the accessory foods.

"Racked up quite the dollar," Claire commented as we were loading the bags into the car. She stopped what she was doing to look directly at me. I shrugged my shoulders. My financials were of no concern to her. "I always knew you were rich." She said the word like it was a fantasy term; the way someone might say _witch _or _vampire._

"I'm not rich," I fired back at her, pushing the cart towards the line of its siblings near the building. "I'm well off, there's a difference. And I wasn't always."

"Then why do you live where we live?" I climbed back into the driver's seat, waiting till she was buckled in before I backed out and took off towards my father's home. I thought about her question but couldn't think of an answer. When I'd gotten the apartment, I'd been a medical student, struggling to pay for school. I'd worked numerous part-time jobs trying to cover my expenses and the cheap apartment was all I could afford at the time. I'd thought about moving when I was making a sufficient paycheck, but I'd decorated and refurnished instead, deciding to stay close to Claire. I'd always been weary of her mother.

"It's late, how about I just order us a pizza?" I asked her picking up my phone out of the console. Claire nodded in agreement. "Any toppings?" She shook her head. "Yeah, me neither. Do me a favor and search for a pizza joint in the area." I handed her the phone as I focused on driving, and she did as I told her to. When she found one she handed me the phone and I called the place, ordering one large pizza with extra cheese, wings, and a liter of cola.

The house was just as I remembered it, just as I'd left it. I had the key, insisting on keeping the place even when my mother was ready to sell it and reap the "little cash" she claimed it'd run for. It didn't look any different then I remembered. Built right on the bank of a river, it was strong, and sturdy, having stood plenty of storms. The porch creaked as we climbed it; I let us inside and locked the door behind me. Everything was the same there, too. The furniture was dusty, but still in good condition.

I went to turn some lights on in the living room, and kitchen, before gathering all the groceries with Claire. I had to turn the old fridge back on; it puttered, puttered, and then started up like the reliable piece of metal it always was. I filled ice trays, put away the perishables, and then stocked the cabinets.

"How long's it been since you were last here?" Claire was sitting at the small breakfast nook, looking out the sliding door into, what was now, almost complete darkness. I looked out there too, remembering the stones I'd laid out from the back deck to the river when I was a young girl. And my father's old motorboat flipped over in the grass.

"A while…a long while." She looked at me expectantly. "Over ten years." Claire looked like she was going to say something but there was a hard knock at the door that stopped her.

"I'll get the plates," she said instead as I grabbed my wallet from my satchel. I pointed to the cabinet they were in before heading to grab the food.

"40 Devron Road…Clarke?" The pizza guy looked down at the receipt in his hand; he was young by the looks of it. I nodded my head. "Uh, its $16.49." He handed me the pie with a box on top, the wings no doubt. I gave him what was in my wallet, a twenty and some singles.

"Keep it."

He handed me a plastic bag with the bottle of cola in it. "Thanks."

I took it from him, working hard to juggle it all in my arms. "No problem. Have a good night."

He grinned, turning down the porch. "Yeah, you too."

Spending the week at my old home was like reliving memories. As I walked through the halls of my childhood home, I found myself walking through our camping trips, our mornings on the boat fishing, the horse back riding, the trips into Atlanta – everything. I could tell that the small vacation was doing some good for Claire, too. The first night, I listened to her through the wall of my dad's bedroom as she cried, undoubtedly mourning her mother's life. But as the days progressed, she livened, and grew to enjoy the south.

"Morning," I called to her as I passed the living room to the kitchen. She was sitting in the old couch, huddled in a crocheted blanket as she stared at the old television. It got maybe ten channels, at best.

"You gotta' see what's on the news. They're talking about some virus that's spreading. They said it's already taken the tri-state area."

I grabbed some milk from the fridge, and two bowls from the cabinet. "Come in here, and have some breakfast."

Claire surfaced. "Didn't you hear what I said? Everyone's getting sick. You're a doctor, don't you care?"

"Of course I care, but I'm in Georgia, what am I going to do?" I poured some Frosted Flakes, filled the bowls with the milk, and stuck a spoon in each before joining Claire at the small breakfast nook.

"They said everyone's getting really sick, really fast. They said something like, about it being an epidemic and that it passes by fluids or something. It sounds bad. What if I have it?" She was looking at me, her brown eyes wide.

"You don't have it, whatever it is. But I'll give it to you, if you don't finish your breakfast: eat." She didn't say anything more but I could tell she wasn't convinced about whatever it was that was going on. We were heading back to Baltimore today, and I wanted to get out on the road soon, considering it was quite the car ride. I sent Claire to the bathroom first to shower, while I finished packing up my things. The last time I left this place I hadn't had a chance to bring anything with me, that wasn't going to be the case this time.

I'd been going through my dad's things all week. I had found the compass he used on all our camping trips, a box of his hunting knives, and some old photographs of us together. And that was just by a quick run-through of his things. While Claire was in the bathroom, I went outside to the shed to get the fishing gear. I knew that it was of no use to me in Baltimore but I wanted it anyway, just to have in my apartment as a memory of him. I was surprised to find a bag of guns in the shed as well. I always knew my dad had some guns for when he _really _went hunting, but there was a large assortment in the bag along with ammo. They had to be disposed of properly, I decided. I had a gun license, but had only registered a handgun, which was in a lockbox in my apartment.

When I finished loading my findings in the Ford, I went back inside, and waited in my room for Claire to finish. I was lying on my bed with my phone in my hand. I had a few messages from my coworkers about the status of my patients, and a missed call from my friend Devon. I called her back, but got her voicemail.

While I was showering, my phone rang again. I poked my head out of the curtain, reaching for it. As expected, it was Devon. I picked up, immediately putting it on speaker. "Clarke, you there?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Where are you? Are you at work?" Her voice was oddly, and alarmingly, frantic. And Devon was a considerably calm person. She had to be; her job called for it. She was an army medic; she had attended Johns Hopkins with me, and then was directly deployed to Afghanistan after graduation. As far as I knew, she was still there.

"No, I'm at my dad's place in Georgia. Why? Where are you?" Maybe she was back in Baltimore, and looking to meet up. I didn't know. Setting the phone down on the toilet lid, I turned the shower off and stepped out, grabbing a towel.

"You're in Georgia!" Her voice rang through in a harsh cry.

"Yes," I said again, slightly annoyed now since she wasn't answering me. "Where are you?"

"I'm in New York. Have you been watching the news?"

I furrowed my brows, tightening the towel around my body before picking the phone up and walking out with it. "What're you doing in New York?"

"I guess you haven't been watching the news. I was flown in yesterday. Listen, I don't know how to explain this and what I'm about to tell you is going to sound crazy but you need to listen, listen like the level-headed doctor you are, not like the know-it-all doctor you tend to be."

"I resent that."

"There's a disease. The government has no idea how it started, where it came from. Some claim it started in the city, but the reports are all over the place. This disease is extremely infectious, and inevitably kills you. There's no cure for it. Are you following me?"

"Yes, I follow you. I did graduate medical school. I've seen incurable cancers, AIDS, and other illnesses. I know what you're talking about."

"No, you don't, Clarke. Not until you see it. This isn't a normal oh I'm sick and dying disease. The people who get infected are dying but they aren't _staying_ dead. They're coming back from the dead, and that's how it's spreading. They're…they're _cannibalistic_. They didn't bring the military in just to sit and watch. They've got them killing everyone. People who are infected, and those that have come back."

I had made it to my room but now my feet were planted. I felt my blood run cold. "What do you mean…_cannibalistic_?"

"They're eating each other, Clarke. They're coming back from the dead, but they aren't alive. All they know how to do is eat other people. And once you've been bitten you're infected. I've been taking care of all these people and no matter what I give them they all just keep dying. And sometimes it's like five minutes, others its like hours, but they always come back and they're not human when they do."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. What she was telling me…it couldn't be true. But, then, why would she lie about something. "Let me get this straight," I spoke slowly, as I sat down on the edge of my bed. "There's some sort of disease spreading by…_bites _that is killing people…and bringing them back to life…only when they come back…they only want to…_bite _people."

"Yes, essentially. But if you get scratched you can be turned also. It's not so black and white. If you get the disease, either by being bitten or scratched, you get a fever, die, and then come back. If they eat you to the point that you die, then you come back. And there's something else…" Devon went silent on the other line.

I held my breath for a second, and then let it go. "What else?"

"Well, I was treating some soldiers; they were pretty banged up, but none of them had any bite or scratch marks. First it was John; he died from a stroke in the night. Before we could remove him, he turned. There was another patient, Felix, he lost his leg and his other one had a bad infection. We needed to amputate, but he didn't want us to. Infection went to his blood, he was gone within the day. And then he came back."

"What are you telling me, Devon?" My tone was gravely.

"No matter how you die, you still come back as one of them. Everyone is carrying the infection. It's just dormant." I didn't respond. I couldn't. It felt like I had swallowed my own tongue.

Finally, I said, "How dangerous are these things?"

She sighed down the phone. "It's bad. If you know what's going on, one or two of them attacking you isn't so hard. You have to cut off the brain – bullet, knife, smashing, it doesn't matter – killing the brain kills them. But I've seen groups of them taking people down. Nobody knows what's really going on, and the governments trying to hide it. They're going to tell you to go into the cities, to find military camps, but I'm telling you its safer outside the city, where it's less populated. Shit's hitting the fan fast. Last I heard the whole coast was being overrun."

There was some shouting on her end.

"Listen, I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I know more."

"Okay."

"Be safe, Clarke."

"You too." I ended the call, and set my phone down beside me. I was about to get up and change when Claire walked in, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

"I heard everything."

I heaved a breath. That wasn't how I wanted her to find out. "Go get your shoes on."

Claire crossed her arms over her chest; the fashion emitted a stubborn attitude. "Where are we going?"

I was moving towards my duffle bag and pulling out some clothes when I snapped, "I won't tell you again." She made a sound of annoyance before backing out the room. I dressed quickly feeling that she may storm back in any moment. She waltzed in moments after I was finished.

"Where are we going?"

I grabbed my keys off my nightstand, shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, and started out the room. Claire followed, hot on my heels. "We're going to get provisions." She didn't question it, but climbed into the driver's seat of the pickup truck as I locked the doors, and followed suit.

"What's that mean?" she asked when I was seated and turning the car on.

"It means…" I faltered. I wasn't sure what it meant. I wasn't sure what anything meant anymore. "It means we're not going back to Baltimore – not yet, at least. Not until things clear up, and the military gets a handle on whatever's going on. So I need to go food shopping again, and buy clothes. You didn't really bring much with you."

She turned in her seat, facing out the window, murmuring something, which I just made out to be: "Didn't really have much to bring."

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><p>AN: Slow start but the next chapter will definitely have all our favorite characters, hope you enjoyed it!<p>

**ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: **Gracelynne Clarke is portrayed by Deborah Ann Woll, Claire Sumner is portrayed by Mackenzie Foy, and Devon Frampton is portrayed by Olivia Wilde


	2. Chapter 1: Don't Talk to Strangers

The sun had hardly broken over the horizon igniting the now empty town in a light, orange glow. The early birds chirped mellifluously from a far off nest. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans before holstering a hunting knife I'd attached to one of the loops at my hip. I reached up and loosened the ponytail I'd put my hair into. The tightness was beginning to give me a headache, but it could have also been the fact I hadn't eaten in a few days. It was stupid, but I wanted to preserve what food was left for Claire.

"You're not really going to go out there?" Claire's voice rang out from behind me. My shoulders hunched, my lips curling into a wince. The day had hardly begun; somewhere different, where everything was perfect, a household would be sleeping soundly in their beds. The clock on the wall read just past five.

"Claire, go back to bed," I snapped. I had meant for the remark, brisk, to send her cowering back into her room, but she remained behind me. I turned around; her arms were crossed and her lips were puckered in defiance.

"You can't go. You saw what happened, just like I did." We had glimpsed a woman running with multiple bite wounds a few weeks ago. She was there one moment, and then was taken down by a man who was covered in blood. It was exactly how Devon said it would be. I wanted to help her, everything in my body yearned to save her life, but I had Claire with me and could not risk it. After seeing that, Claire was on the defense. She didn't want to leave the house, but it wasn't realistic when we were low on supplies, and literally alone in the tiny town.

"I'm going to be fine. I won't be gone long. Okay? But I gotta' go; we're low on food." She glared at me, but didn't say anything more. I pulled the knife out of the holster on my pants and handed it to her. "Just in case. But don't open the doors for anyone, okay? I'm serious. Just stay in your room."

Claire nodded. "Be careful."

"I will be."

She looked down momentarily, and then back up at me. "What if you don't come back?"

I held her gaze and responded with strong conviction, "I promise to come back." She was biting her lip unsurely, but I didn't know how else to assure her. I gave her one last glance before stepping outside. It was warm; the sun was beating down on the small town making it feel even hotter. It was silent outside, not unusual for the time of day. The town had been empty for weeks though. Once word got around about what was happening, everyone tailed it towards the city. We were of a few who stayed in the town.

I climbed into the driver's seat, and started the truck up. The drive to the superstore was a quick one with no delays. The town was barren, and the same could be said for the store. Since the power had cut off a month ago, the town was blanketed in darkness, silence. Its only reprieve was the sun. The superstore smelt of rotten, soiled food. The scent was pungent and clung to the insides of my nostrils as I grabbed a cart at the door and rolled through the aisles.

When I'd come to the store other times, I tried to take only what I needed and nothing more. I considered other people, and thought that they would come as well to grab supplies. But since everyone had all but left the town, I figured the last of the supplies were fair game. I walked through each aisle, filling the basket with things like cookies, to batteries and lighters. When I'd filled the basket, I took it outside and stocked the back of the truck before going in again. I tried to be fast; I didn't want to leave Claire alone for long.

I went to the back of the store where the pharmacy was, and cleared it of any and all medicinal supplies. I found a variety of necessities, from allergy medicines to cough syrup and a number of prescription painkillers. By the time I finished, it must have been half past six. I headed back to my home, satisfied with what I'd scavenged. Even more so, with the fact my scavenging had gone uninterrupted. However, when I pulled up to my place, I knew that not the same could be said for Claire.

I put the truck in park, and jumped out, jogging towards the front door that was lying wide open. "Claire," I called as I pulled the handgun I'd tucked into the back of my jeans out. Blood circulated faster as my heart rate increased; it had a dizzying effect but I took deep breaths to maintain control. I cleared the living room, noticing nothing unusual and started into the kitchen. The back door was lying open. I ran outside, and called again, "Claire!"

I didn't get a response at first. But then I heard them. I had heard them before; their low groans combined to create a slightly louder roar. I looked around the grounds, and saw movement in the trees. Two infecteds stumbled out of the shrubs, groaning, as they moved towards me. I noticed fresh blood smeared on their clothes and thought the worst. Instinctually, I took a step back, before lifting my gun and shooting. My first fire missed them completely, the second hitting one in the arm. I tried a few more times until I hit them both in the head and then took their path into the woods. I called Claire's name as I walked, hoping to find her alive. Praying to find her alive. It'd been stupid of me to leave her.

I passed by another infected lying in the grass with a knife, _my _knife, in its head and quickened my pace. She had to be close. "Clarke! Clarke, you're back. You came for me." I looked around to find Claire, following her voice up a tree to where she was perched on a branch. She started her descent and I waited at the bottom, there to help her to the ground. Before she was even safely there, she threw herself into my arms, holding me tightly.

I froze at first. This was definitely a violation of my personal space. But I could feel her shaking and knew I had to hold her. "You did good, Claire."

She pulled away and looked towards the body on the ground. "I killed him."

I crouched down in front of her and responded, "Listen to me Claire. They're not people anymore. You didn't kill a person. You did what you had to do. That doesn't mean what you did was wrong, okay?" She nodded her head. "Okay. Now come on, we've got a lot of ground to cover." I started walking back towards the house; Claire was hot on my heels.

She pushed ahead of me, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"We're leaving, and don't start asking me all these questions about where we're going because I don't know yet."

We traveled for days, stopping at towns to loot stores before continuing on. I had no destination in mind. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. I knew I needed to find a safe place for Claire, a place that wasn't overrun with all the infecteds. The more time passed, the worse the amount of infecteds got though. I'd taken the time out to teach Claire to shoot a gun, and work a knife pretty decently. She had a survivor's mentality I believed she'd picked up from living with her mother. But it made her adjustment easier.

Shooting the infecteds was difficult for me. I wanted to believe that they were still people, that I could still help them. I'd spent half my life learning to treat diseases and save people, that killing them was practically going against my own beliefs. The more we traveled, though, the less I believed I could save them. The infecteds conditions only got worse as time passed. Their bodies decomposed, and they reanimated no matter their condition – we'd seen infecteds with only half their body there.

We'd been traveling for a few weeks when we came across an area that seemed pretty clear of infecteds. Claire said as we drove into the town, "I think we should stay here." I didn't respond right away. "At least for a little while." I knew it was a hard adjustment for her. Living on the road, pilfering what we could find, siphoning gas from cars, and sleeping in our own truck. It wasn't the life someone so young ought to be living, but I just didn't feel safe stopping anywhere.

Still, I conceded, "Not in town, maybe on the outskirts in one of those farm houses. Just for a little while." My response made her face light up in a smile.

"Maybe we can find other survivors! Maybe there's a place where they're rescuing everyone." I didn't want to get her hopes up but I didn't want to crush them either. I wanted her to be optimistic, believing that anything could happen. But everything was gone – phone lines, electric, water. Nothing worked anymore, and I hadn't heard from Devon. I hadn't seen any military units for over a month. My own faith had dwindled drastically.

"Hey, look," Claire broke my thoughts as she pointed, "these stores hardly look touched." I glanced around at the small town center. She was right; they appeared as though nobody had been in them since everything went badly. I parked the trunk in front of a pharmacy, and got out, pulling my knife out of its holster. We'd learned through our travels that using guns only drew in more infecteds. It was much easier to just cut off the brain.

"Alright, let's be quick about this," I said as I reached into the backseat and grabbed an empty duffle bag. We'd looted a camping store a few towns over and had found some pretty good gear, including a number of duffles and backpacks. I grabbed another bag for myself and hopped down out of the truck. I surveyed the town for any movement before making a line towards the pharmacy door. Claire followed me in; I held up a hand to stop her, and then reached for the first thing on the one of the shelves and dropped it.

Almost immediately groaning responded. "Don't move," I said as I crept down the aisle towards the noise. An infected tumbled towards me but I kicked it backwards, hoping to knock it to the ground. It only stumbled and I had to kick again before it dropped. I pressed the heel of my boot into its chest to keep it still and bent down to thrust my knife into its head. I strained my ears for any more sound of movement. "I think we're good; grab whatever you find so we can get out of here." Claire scurried off to another aisle, as I walked to the back where all the medicine was kept. I went through each row, shoving all the bottles into my bag. While food and shelter were most important, I knew medicine followed. Living outside left a person open to infections, rashes, and other illnesses. Perhaps it was because I was a doctor, but I was always inclined to grab medicine first.

Looking through the prescriptions, I had a moment of nostalgia. If I closed my eyes, it was almost like I was back in the hospital. But I wasn't. I was here, in the middle of some backwoods town in the midst of what was a viral pandemic.

Once I finished off the prescriptions, I went back to the front to help Claire with the aisles. I grabbed the necessities first - bandages, gauze, antiseptics. And then things that were clearly more for comfort – razors, deodorant, lotion, chapstick. I went towards the register, and stuffed what was left of the candy and protein bars in my bag. "Here." I tossed a bag of skittles to Claire. She looked at me blankly. "Go ahead." I looked around the now, mostly bare, store, and shoved my bag higher up on my shoulder. It was almost too heavy to bear. "I think we got everything. Let's get it to the truck, and try the other stores before we head out."

Claire nodded before leading the way out, smiling with a mouth full of the candy. We tore through the last couple of stores – a Quick Mart, and a Bed, Bath and Beyond. The food store had little, but the latter was stocked with great finds from an assortment of bedding, to soaps, and outdoor cooking supplies. By mid-afternoon we were back on the road looking for a place to stay for the night. We drove for a few miles before we came across a small, seemingly abandoned, one-story farm house. I parked in the dirt driveway, and hopped out, turning to look at Claire, who was unbuckling herself. "Stay here."

"What? Why!"

I sighed, exasperated. "Because I said so, Claire." I slammed the truck door, and hit the lock button on the key, before slipping it into the front of my jeans. I had a handgun tucked into the back of my jeans, a knife in a holster at my belt, and a machete hanging across my back. I preferred to use the knives as opposed to the gun because the sound drew more infecteds. I traipsed through the dirt, towards the front door. I looked back, checking to make sure Claire was still in the truck before I tried the doorknob.

It was unlocked so I let myself in, pulling the machete out of the case on my back, and wielding it in front of me for protection. The tell tale sign of undead life filled my ears; the groaning came from numerous directions. "Alright y'little freaks, where are ya'?" I whispered as I made my way into the living room. I heard footsteps shuffling through what appeared to be the kitchen and then one infected surfaced, with another following behind it. It noticed me, maybe smelled me, and picked up its pace.

I took a breath, raising my weapon above my head, before bringing it down on the first ascenders head. It cracked through its weak-boned skull, before I yanked it out and it slumped towards me, hitting the floor. The second one reached out for me, dirty fingernails and even dirtier hands, and I dodged its grapple, before swinging my knife at its head. I had to force it in before I severed its brain, and it died too. The third infected came up the same time a fourth came in from behind; I had to press myself against the wall to avoid being attacked. They both turned to me, trapping me.

They were close. Too close for comfort. I lifted my leg, pressing my foot against one to keep it back while I swung my knife into the head of the other. I put all my strength into the knife, pushing through its skull till the tip came out of the back of its head. I pulled it out fast, pressing it against the other infected to keep it away so I could drop my foot. I heaved a deep breath, the adrenaline wearing off, before I finished off the last one. It hit the ground in a heap. I pressed my hands against my knees, gaining control of my breathing before I slipped the machete back into its sheath on my back and cleared the rest of the rooms.

When I finished, I went back out the front door to get Claire; only Claire was no longer in the truck. I muttered an expletive under my breath before I ran around the house to look for her. She was standing in the backyard, next to a woman on a horse petting it. I watched her smiling as the horse nuzzled her hand, and I could only envision all the ways this could go wrong. I wasn't naïve; something like this happened in the world and people lost their humanity, fought each other, and stole from each other. Who knew what this woman wanted?

"Claire! Get over here!" I screamed as I jogged towards them.

"Look at how pretty this horse is," Claire responded, still petting the horse. The woman looked at me and smiled. I had to resist a sneer.

"I was jus' passin' through, saw your daughter here—."

I cut the woman off, "She's not my daughter."

The woman looked caught off guard by my snippy remark, but I didn't know her. I didn't know anything about her. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't want to. "Oh…well, I'm Maggie Green. I live about two miles down the road." I didn't say anything but I stared pretty harshly, hoping she'd leave us be. Instead, she continued, "This here used to be the Owen's home. Nice people…they left when everythin' turned round."

When I still didn't respond, Maggie asked, "An' you are?"

When I made no move to respond, Claire piped in, "I'm Claire. This is Clarke."

Maggie Green looked at me hesitantly, and mumbled, "Pleasure I'm sure." Her horse started to trot forward and she held it in place for a moment. "Look if you two need anything, we aren't far down the road, there. Got ourselves fixed up pretty nicely too."

I nodded my head feigning gratitude as I said, "Thanks." Though I had no inclination to take her up on the offer. As Southern-sweet as it was, I didn't trust anybody, need anybody, or want anybody. My goal was, and always would be, to keep Claire safe. Not make friends and lollygag. Maggie Green nodded her head and then took off on her horse, cutting through the field towards her home, which I could make out a long ways across the fields.

"She seemed nice," Claire said with a smile.

I snarled in return, "Get inside. What'd I tell you about talking to strangers?"


	3. Chapter 2: A Risky Surgery

That night, things felt much simpler. Sleeping in a house was much easier than sleeping in a truck. I could tell Claire was happy by the way she volunteered to make dinner. "Really?" I had mocked in disbelief. She was grumpy when she was hungry and had often asked me when I was going to get us dinner and what it would be. We'd pillaged enough canned food that we hadn't resorted to hunting for our food…yet. We'd had fish a couple of nights ago when we'd passed across a clean creak, but that was about as close as we'd gotten to wildlife.

Tonight though, Claire happily volunteered. I believed it was only because there was a gas stove and we'd be able to use it. I knew there was no way she'd actually volunteer to cook over an open fire. I'd found two pots for her; she'd decided that we'd have pasta for dinner. She filled one pot with about three water bottles of water, and the other she threw a container of Barilla sauce into. I briefed her on how to cook both – let the water boil for the pasta, cover the sauce, stir occasionally so it didn't stick to the bottom and she did the rest.

While she cooked, I sealed off the back and front doors and then draped the windows so the light wouldn't seep through and attract any attention – alive or dead. Oddly enough I had more fear for people who were alive rather than dead. At least with the dead you knew exactly what you were up against. People were deceitful, who knew what they would do now that the world was shit. "Clarke, I think the food's done," Claire called to me, halting my work on the last window. I let the drape fall before I started back towards the kitchen. Claire was draining the pasta into the sink when I entered. She pulled out bowls and forks from wherever she'd found them. She seemed to have everything ready so I retrieved two water bottles from my bag and sat down at the breakfast bar. There was only one candle lit in the kitchen, placed in the middle of the breakfast bar, and it did little to illuminate Claire.

But she still looked unmistakable to me. The change was obvious in her face, worn from our travels, and the way she held herself. It was impossible to think that the situation wouldn't affect her; I knew that it had affected me. She had changed in many little ways. But so had I. I guessed it was to be expected. I figured you didn't really come out on the other side of events like these without war wounds.

Claire placed a bowl in front of me, breaking my thoughts, and sat down across from me. "I hope its okay. I've never cooked before." I wasn't a liar, not in the least. I always believed you should just tell it like it was, whatever it was. As a doctor, we were supposed to disclose the patient with all information. I picked up my fork, rolled some spaghetti on it, and took a bite. My hunger hit with a vengeance, and I went for a second bite before I said anything.

"It's good. You didn't overcook the pasta." Claire smiled. "I wish we had some parmesan."

Claire made a noise of complaint or agreement. I wasn't too sure. "Me too. What I wouldn't do for some fresh food. Or anything refrigerated, for that matter."

"Don't even get me started on what I miss. A hot shower is top of the list. And, I don't know, my electric toothbrush. And my regular visits to the dentist for that matter. I guess I'll never find out what happens in Game of Thrones, either."

"You think this is it? How the human race is wiped out?" Claire looked at me expectantly like my opinion on the matter was the Holy Grail.

"No, I don't," I told her honestly. "This is maybe how we knock our population down. Maybe this is God's equivalent of the great flood. Maybe he's separating the chaff from the wheat. But do I think it's the end? No. Someone makes it out on the other side."

Claire mulled my answer over. I could see that she was contemplating my words through the candle between us. I ate silently, waiting for her response. Finally, she said, "Do you think we'll make it out on the other side?"

I shrugged. I hadn't thought about what would happen to us. But based on the relatively easy months we'd had already I was hopeful. "I think our odds are better than most, yeah."

She gave me a small smile. "Okay."

After dinner Claire and I went to sit in the living room. She spent the night writing in a notebook she'd picked up in our travels and I was rereading Animal Farm. It seemed that all I could do these days was read books. I loved reading, I did. But I'd reread so many books in the past two months it was beginning to sicken me. By nine o'clock Claire was asleep in her sleeping bag on one of the couches. I'd insisted we stayed on the first floor rather than taking a bedroom upstairs. It was easier for me to watch her, and keep us safe if we stuck to one floor.

It was harder for me to fall asleep. My nerves grew at night when we were more defenseless. I had to remind myself we were locked up in a house, which was safer than being out in the wild. I couldn't imagine living in the wild, not when there was infecteds everywhere. I went to sleep and dreamt of what it must be like to be dead.

Three days later, Claire was giving me the silent treatment. We were quiet as we packed up the car and got ready to depart. She didn't want to leave; actually she wanted to do the exact opposite and make the house our home. She felt it was safe because we hadn't seen any infecteds but just because they weren't knocking on our door didn't mean they weren't out there.

"You gonna' ignore me all day?" I asked as I shoved my bag into the backseat. It was nearing noon, and getting pretty hot. Even in a cropped, short-sleeved button-up and denim shorts, I was still burning up. I'd applied sunscreen when I'd woken up but my skin was turning a bright red anyway. I always burned so easily, especially in the south.

Claire was leaning against the side of the truck and looked up at me. "I don't understand why we have to leave."

"I told you we gotta' keep moving. We looted the town, siphoned gas – there's nothing more for us here."

"I don't want to go," she snapped.

"Unfortunately, its not up to you."

"But I should have a say," she muttered crossly. Her eyes were lowered into a glower and attitude radiated off of her.

"Well you don't get a say because you're the child and I'm the adult. End of discussion. Now get the rest of your stuff so we can go." I didn't scream at her but my tone was harsh, colder than I've ever gotten with her. Her eyes went wide, and before either of us could say a word she tore off into the backyard.

I stared after her retreating figure a little shocked. "You've got to be kidding me." Growling, I locked the truck and took off after her calling her name. She didn't have that big of a lead on me so I caught her easily, latching onto the back of her shirt and pulling her to a stop. She fought against me but I held tightly so she couldn't get away.

A gunshot rang through the woods, causing her to stop moving and I stared at where it came from curiously. I let go of her shirt and did a quick sweep of the backyard. "It's probably just Otis hunting," I told with a shrug. We had met Otis two nights ago, who lived on the Greene's farm. He came traipsing through the backyard with a couple of rabbits in his arms. Of course Claire was quick to run over and spark conversation with him.

"Hi, I'm Claire," she'd said to him. "That's Clarke." She'd pointed behind herself to where I was walking up to her. Before he could introduce himself Claire was crying, "Oh you're bleeding!"

I heard her words and took off up to them, pulling Claire behind me. "Have you been bit?" I'd asked, snarling at him with my strongest, coldest tone. My fingers splayed across the blade against my hip.

"Naw, not at all. Just clipped myself on a tree branch, s'all." I had stared him down trying to figure out if he was lying and surely enough he pulled up his sleeve, revealing a small gash on his forearm.

"See, it's nothing," Claire had chimed pushing past me. "Clarke can help you with that. She's a surgeon."

Claire looked across the backyard and I could tell she wasn't convinced. But if it wasn't Otis, I couldn't imagine who it would be. "Come on, let's eat something before we go." Claire didn't disagree with me just turned on her heel silently and started back towards the house. I looked back at the woods where the gunshot had come from, sighed, and then followed her inside.

After a small lunch of cheesy macaroni Claire and I were ready to leave. Claire was still giving me the silent treatment but I didn't care. She might not of saw it but I was doing the right thing for us. As we were getting into the truck that Greene girl from the other day pulled up on her horse, her face contorted with fear and anguish.

"Clarke!" she called as if she was both surprised and happy to find me outside. "We need your help. A boy's been shot."

I felt Claire's burning stare and raised my eyebrow curiously at her. "And?"

She sank back a bit, her expression confused. "Otis said you said you were a surgeon."

"Exactly. I was. I'm not anymore." I felt Claire's hard stare on me, but she said nothing. I was glad for that because I didn't need to be guilted into anything.

"Look, it's a boy, about Claire's age, and he needs help. Whether or not you can live with yourself not doing anything…that's your choice." Maggie took off without another word. I stared after but then pulled the keys out of my back pocket.

"Really?" Claire cried. "Who are you anymore?" I stared at Claire, my eyebrow quirked in question. "The Clarke I knew – the _Doctor _I knew wouldn't walk away from someone who was hurt."

I didn't know how to respond. I knew Claire was right. A part of me yearned to help the child I didn't know. Another part of me, a strong part, was excited about a GSW to an unknown region – a surgery I would've jumped on if this was anything different. The strongest part of me, though, thought about Claire. "Get in the car."

Claire stared, shocked, but didn't say anything. She walked around the side of the truck and climbed in. I got in too and took off down the road once she had her seatbelt on. The silence was immeasurable. Claire had shifted and was staring out the window. She wasn't one to not say what was on her mind. I knew she was pissed because she wasn't talking. I'd made my decision and I had to live with it.

Except I couldn't. "God damn it," I muttered as I spun the car around in the dirt road and took off towards the Greene farm. I glanced at Claire. "Don't you say a word."

When we pulled up outside the Greene house, it looked as though no one was even home. As I climbed out of the car, a man in an old-fashioned police uniform came running down the front steps, but stopped at the sight of me. He ran a hand through his hair and turned around, looking like he was about to start crying, something I had an idea he'd already been doing. An older man followed after him, coming to the porch and then stopping to look at me.

"And who might you be?" he asked his voice deep but still soft. He glanced at the man in the uniform. "Do you know this young lady?"

I was confused. I thought they would be expecting me. Claire climbed out of the car and looked around curiously. I said to her, "Get my med kit out of the back seat. The big bag, we're gonna' need all of it." I looked back at the two men. "Maggie Greene told me a boy's been shot. Where is he?"

The older man regarded me curiously. "You know my daughter?"

Claire handed me my medic bag. I took it and started up the stairs. "We can sit here and exchange backgrounds. Or you can take me to the boy that's been shot and I can save his life." My statement took the older man back but nonetheless he let me in the house. I glanced to see that Claire was following me and noticed the uniformed man staring, his mouth agape.

The old man said, "I recessed what I could of the bullet shards, but based on the swelling of his belly, I believe there's more." He led me into the room where a young boy, around Claire's age, was sprawled on a bed. I looked him up and down before making my way over to his bedside and bending over to do his vitals.

"Who are you?" I asked as I lifted his eyelids. His pupils were normal, but he was unconscious. I checked his carotid and radial pulse at the same time. Holding for thirty seconds, I deemed it thready and weak.

"I'm Hershel Greene. This is my farm. Who are you? And how do you know my daughter?" His tone of voice was stronger now. I understood completely. I was a stranger that had just walked into his house. But once my scrub cap came on, I lost all sense of common courtesy. My main concern was the patient.

"Are you a doctor?" I asked as I started to palpate the boy's stomach. The man in the uniform had walked into the room and was kneeling on the other side of the bed, pushing the boy's hair off his face. "I take it you're his father?" The man nodded.

Hershel said distantly behind me, "I'm a veterinarian."

I slid my hands under the boy's back and pulled my hand back looking for any indication of blood. The bullet hadn't passed clean through. It was in the lower right quadrant leaving me to believe it was lodged somewhere in his large intestine. "What kind of gun was he shot with?"

"Now miss, I don't know who you are or how you—."

I stopped him, "My name is Clarke. That there is Claire. I was a surgeon at Johns Hopkins before this. We were just passing through the town a few days ago and were going to stay in the house up the road. That's where we met Maggie, and Otis."

The man in uniform dropped his hands into his head. "You're a surgeon? Oh thank you lord. You can save my boy, then right?"

I nodded my head. "I'm going to do my best, but I've got to prep him for surgery now and start if he's going to have a fighting chance."

The man looked back at Hershel questionably. I asked, "What did you say your name was?"

"Rick," he responded. "And that's my son, Carl."

Hershel walked over to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder. "He needs to go on a ventilator. I've sent Otis and Rick here's friend to get one but they won't be back for a while."

I stepped back so his hand dropped from my shoulder. "We don't have that kind of time. I have an intubation kit and a BVM. I just need someone to manually ventilate. I need to move him to a harder, higher surface, and try to get as a sterile surrounding as I can." There were no objections to my words so I walked out and went to get the rest of my surgical supplies from the truck.

As I was pulling the duffle bag from the trunk I'd filled with looted surgical paraphernalia I heard the sound of hooves on the ground. I hopped down out of the truck with the duffle on my shoulder as Maggie Green came up to the fence with a woman on the back of the horse. Maggie tipped her head to me. "Clarke."

"Maggie," I muttered brusquely before I turned and started back into the house just as Rick came rushing the down the stairs and running towards whom I presumed was his wife, or at the very least the mother to the boy inside. I went back into the bedroom where Hershel and his wife were setting up a table draped in a white sheet. Rick and his wife came bounding into the room seconds after I entered and the woman threw herself over her son.

I looked at Claire who was seated in the chair by the bed. She was staring at the boy curiously, but was otherwise silent. I felt a gaze on me and looked around the room locking eyes with Rick. He said, "This here is Clarke; she's a surgeon. She can help Carl."

The woman sat up and looked at me. I suddenly felt everyone's eyes on me. I forced my expression to go stoic. "You're going to perform surgery on my son?"

I nodded. "Yes. His stomach is distended; there's more than likely abdominal bleeding. He could have a ruptured bowl. He needs surgery very soon for his survival."

Surprisingly, my words didn't faze her. "And you've done this surgery before?"

"I have performed a number of abdominal surgeries, some of which were gun shot wounds, and from what I've learned no two are the same. I have an idea of what this will be like but I won't know for sure until I open him up." I felt like I was in a hospital now advising parents on their child's surgery; it almost felt normal. "I have to tell you there are a number of risks with any surgery but the circumstances of this surgery bring additional problems. I can list for you all the things that can go wrong, but it won't do any good. My main concern for this surgery is your son's chance of infection, which is very high."

Rick said, "So what does that mean for Carl?"

"Worst case scenario, your son goes into septic shock. Best-case scenario, very little infection occurs and his body is able to fight it. I'm going to try to make this surgery as sterile as I can, and I have a prescription for some very strong antibiotics but it will be touch and go." They flinched at my words but I wasn't going to sugarcoat what was going to be a high-risk surgery.

The wife stood up, and looked at me levelly. "Do the surgery."

I stared at her trying to gauge whether she was telling me to do the surgery as a distraught and mentally unfit mother or as a sound adult making the best decision. When I found my answer I said, "Okay. I have surgical drapes, gowns, and gloves in this bag. I need someone to move Carl to the table so I can get started."

Everyone dispersed, and I started to get ready to perform an extremely risky surgery.


	4. Chapter 3: Crossbow Fires

When I exited the room, Rick and his wife both jumped up and ran over to me. Hershel was still in the room with Carl ventilating since he was still unconscious. As I removed my gloves and gown, I said, "There was a lot more bleeding than I initially anticipated. I had to resect part of his bowl. He's going to need to take it easy for a while, but he'll make a full recovery. The anesthesia hasn't worn off yet but it shouldn't be long."

Lori grabbed me before I could stop her and pulled me into a hug. I shoved out of her arms, bewildered. I knew my eyes were wide, and there was no stopping the sound of disgust that left me. "I don't know who you are, but I owe you more than words can explain. Thank you for saving him."

I didn't say anything as she passed by me and walked into the room with Carl and Hershel. Rick stepped forward and reached out as though he was going to pat me on the shoulder but then stopped. He must've noticed my expression and I appreciated that. "Thank you." I moved to say something but before I could another voice barked in the room.

"Is this her?" I glanced over towards the sound of the voice, and then I was shoved against a wall. "I risked my _life_ to save that boy and you just – you just."

His arm was in throat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hershel step into the room but Rick pulled the unknown man back before another word could be barked. I stared at the guy, unfazed, and said, "Saved him? Cause that's what I did. I saved his life."

"Someone died going to get that thing. And you didn't even need it."

Rick stepped between us, saying, "Shane, just calm down, okay?"

One of my eyebrows lifted. "I don't have time for this." I side-stepped the two and walked into the living room where Claire was sleeping. She was sprawled on this tiny, brown couch in front of a window. Distantly, I could hear Hershel telling Rick that he wouldn't have any violence on his farm. I could see Maggie standing on the porch through the window. I looked down at Claire, still sound asleep, and walked outside.

Maggie looked over at me. It was dark outside and I still couldn't make out the two figures sitting on the bench behind Maggie. "Did he make it?" she asked.

I nodded my head, straining to see the two figures sitting on the porch swings. "He's in good condition, all things considered. I gave Hershel some information on post-surgery complications, though I don't anticipate any."

"So you're just going to leave then?" I didn't say anything. I didn't owe it to Maggie, or anyone here, to stay. I'd done my part by helping the boy. "Well then, before you go, there's someone else…can you take a look at him?"

Maggie turned and nodded to the two men sitting and one stood up, before helping the other to his feet. The two stepped into the porch light and I was taken back by how familiar the younger boy looked. He nodded and gave me a small grin. "I'm Glenn, this is T-Dog. He cut himself on his forearm. We uh think it's infected."

I turned my head and looked at him levelly. "I remember you from somewhere…"

Glenn squinted and then raked a hand through his floppy hair. "I uh think I delivered pizza to you once. Right before everything."

I snapped my finger, crying, "Yeah, yeah, I remember." Even in a zombie apocalypse, it was still a small world. "I'll look at his arm, but I need better light." They nodded and we moved into the living room where I could look at T-Dog's forearm. After I cleaned out the wound, and stitched it up, I bandaged it while giving instructions to prevent infection.

"You ought to stay the night," Maggie said as I packed up my things into my bag. "Its late and Claire's already asleep."

I stood up, wiping my palms on the front of my cut-offs. I glanced over at Claire and then at my watch. "She'll be alright – and I don't want to intrude. It seems you guys have a full house as it is." I walked over to Claire before Maggie could respond and was about to wake her when I was stopped.

"Wait – you're leaving?" I looked over at the boy's mother, Lori. She had asked the question. As I looked around I realized it had filled considerably. Hershel was there, looking distraught and upset. Rick and the man who'd had me up against a wall earlier were in the room, too. Glenn was standing next to T-Dog. "You can't leave what if something happens to my son?" she cried when I didn't respond.

I looked at her, her face pulled in anguish, and I felt a tinge of what I'd feel if this were a hospital and the child a patient I'd just performed surgery on. Something must've read on my face because Hershel said, "If anything happens I could take care of it."

"No offense," Lori said. "But I feel far more comfortable with a surgeon taking care of my son than a veterinarian."

Rick glanced at Lori and quickly said, "We appreciate it Hershel. We appreciate all that you've done for us, and you too, Clarke. We don't want to ask for too much or make you stay when you have somewhere to be."

"But do you?" Maggie interjected. "Have somewhere to be? Are ya headed somewhere? Do you really wanna' be driving off at this time of night?"

I glanced at Claire, sound asleep on the couch and said, "Alright. I'll stay the night. In the morning I'll do my final assessment on Carl but then we're gone."

Lori smiled. "Oh thank you. Thank you so much." She took off back into the room where Carl was sleeping.

Hershel said, "I understand that ya'll will be staying on the farm while Carl recovers but I don't have enough bedrooms to accommodate."

"That's fine, Hershel. We've got tents. We can set up right outside. We're real thankful for your hospitality," Rick responded. I heard a noise come from the other man. He was standing off to the side, his arms crossed with an angry expression. He was missing hair, too, I noticed now. He must have literally just shaved his head bald. "Glenn, did you pack the car up?"

Glenn nodded his head. "Yeah, yeah I can go and set them up now."

Maggie said, "What about Clarke?" I looked at her, trying to send my aggravation through my eyes. She was _too_ concerned about what I was doing, and I didn't understand why. I didn't want to understand; I just wanted it to stop.

Hershel responded, "She can take the guest bedroom. Maggie, why don't you take Clarke there."

After carrying Claire upstairs, I resigned myself to get some sleep since I would be traveling most of the day tomorrow. Except, as I lay there I thought about everything that had happened. How it seemed my whole life had changed within a day. I used to be a doctor, working at a prestigious Hospital but now I was nothing, nothing but a vessel trying to remain alive at a time where it was fairly impossible. But I decided I had to stay alive to give Claire a fighting chance, a chance to make something of her life.

When the sun peaked through the windows of the small bedroom, I decided to get up and start my day. My clothes felt grungy and stiff since I'd been laying in them all night. I stepped out into the hallway and ran right into someone. Hershel's other daughter, Beth. "Mornin'," she said with a small smile. "Are ya' headed out?" she asked.

I shook my head. "Not yet. Gonna' get a change of clothes for me and Claire. Try to get cleaned up."

"Oh, well the bathrooms right there." She pointed. "Feel free to use it. We've got running water. Its not real hot but it does the job."

I nodded my head as I started down the stairs as I responded, "Yeah, thanks."

"Y'know," she continued as she followed me downstairs. "It was real nice what you did for Rick and Lori. Maggie said you and Claire were just leaving when she caught ya'."

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and asked, "Isn't it early for you to be awake?"

Beth answered, "Oh, I've got chores to do. It's better to get them done before the heat kicks in."

"Right." I turned on my heel and waltzed out the front door. I had my car keys in my back pocket, and I went around to the backseat, unlocking the door and pulling out the first duffle bag there. Claire and I had set the car up systematically, putting our must used items in the closer reach while the excess of our supplies were in the bed of the truck. I shucked the bag onto my shoulder and returned to the house to take a shower.

Beth was right; the shower wasn't extremely hot and definitely did not compare to the high-end steam shower I had back home, but it did its job. Claire and I had been keeping clean mostly by running rivers. We usually set out in the early morning to every few days to bathe. This was a nice alternative, and a much safer one. After my shower, I threw on a pair of shorts and a loose, short sleeveless gray top. It was already blistering hot outside and I knew the weather wasn't even at its peak yet.

I returned to the room to wake up Claire, nudging her with my foot. "Hey, kid, time to get up," I said as she blinked up at me. "I know you aren't that tired."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Did Carl make it?" she asked not responding to my comment.

"Who?" I asked, instinctively before I thought. She made a face. "The boy. Right. He's fine." I gave the bed a shake. "Come on, get up. There's a shower waiting for you."

Her eyes went wide. "No way, _no way._ They have a shower? With water?"

I shook my head. "Nah, it only sprays lemon juice. All the same though."

She rolled her eyes. "You have 0% sense of humor in your genes."

I nodded my head in agreement. "And 0% patience, so let's go miss. We've got a long day ahead of us."

She was climbing out of bed but stopped at my words. "Are we gonna' leave?"

"We can't stay."

"Why not?" she asked crossing the room to grab the clothes I'd taken out of the bag and set out for her. I handed her a bag that had our shampoo, body wash, toothpaste and her toothbrush in it. "Are you gonna' tell me why we can't stay?"

"Because Claire. This is a family here; we're not going to intrude. And there's no reason to when we do fine on our own. Now go shower, and when you're done bring your stuff to the truck." She sent me a glare before walking out of the room. I grabbed the duffle bag and medical bag off the floor and followed her out to make sure she made it to the bathroom before heading back downstairs. I was headed to the truck to put our stuff away.

I was standing in the bed when I heard someone call my name. I had rearranged some our bags and did a quick inventory of our medical supplies, water, and food. We were in surplus of everything having pilfered from every town we went through. "Clarke," Maggie said as she came up along the side of the truck. "How'd ya' sleep?"

"Alright," I responded as I rummaged through one of my bags looking for the portable ultrasound I'd gotten at Southfork Gen. It was a small machine, running on heavy duty batteries. It was light enough to carry and gave a pretty clear picture. I picked up my stethoscope and slung it around my neck.

"I was wondering," Maggie was saying as I jumped down from the bed and pushed the tailgate up and pulled the top down over it, locking it with my key, "would you mind stayin' for Otis's funeral? I know ya' din't really know 'em but it would sure mean a lot to Patricia."

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her, shocked. "When – what happened?"

"Oh," Maggie said taking a step back. "I was sure you'd heard—he went to get a ventilator with Shane, Rick's friend, and he didn't make it." The guy who'd thrown me up against a wall – it made sense now.

I knew that I had been pretty cold towards Maggie, towards everyone actually but I wasn't completely heartless. "Maggie, I'm sorry. I don't even know what to say—."

She jumped in, "Well, say you'll stay for the funeral."

I nodded my head. "Yeah, of course. Claire and I can stick around for it."

"It means a lot, Clarke," she said with a small smile before she turned around and made her way back into the house. I followed after her a few minutes later, stopping in front of the room Carl was recovering in. I knocked lightly before cracking the door open. Lori was asleep in a chair next to Carl's bed, and Rick was crouched on the floor by his side. He looked up at me, letting go of his son's hand as he stood and walked over.

"He woke up last night," Rick said. "He was talking for a little bit."

"Yeah, he'll be in and out for a couple of days. I gave him some pretty heavy pain meds. Hershel will want to wean him off them. I just want to do a quick assessment."

Rick nodded and stepped aside, "Yeah go right ahead."

I walked over to Carl, setting the ultrasound machine on the bed, before I pulled the cover back on him revealing his abdomen. His stitches were covered in a bandage; it didn't look like the wound had bled at all. He was sleeping and I didn't need to wake him so silently I turned the machine on, and squirted some gel on his stomach before running the probe under the abdomen. I said to Rick, "I'm just checking for any residual bleeding." I pointed to the screen. "This is his stomach—his intestines. You can kind of see where I had to stitch it. I don't see any fluid, which is good. It means I got everything yesterday." I turned the machine off, and returned the sheet over Carl. "As long as the wound stays clean, and he takes it easy while the stitches are still in he'll be fine. He's young, his body will bounce back faster."

"Y'know," Rick responded quietly. "We've had a bad run of it lately. Even this. One moment Carl's lookin' at this deer and the next he's been shot. But then there's you."

I responded, eyebrows furrowed, "Me?"

"What were the odds there'd be a big time surgeon around?"

"Well," I said softly walking towards the door. "Perhaps your luck is turning around."

He said with a kind smile, "Maybe." He glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Are ya' headed out now?"

Turning to Rick, I leaned against the doorframe. "No, actually. I told Maggie I'd attend Otis's service."

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "If ya' don't mind me askin', where are ya' headed anyway?"

I looked up in thought. "No where particular," I told him honestly. "I've just been going, y'know? I guess its stupid but I feel like the more we move the more distance we put between the dead and us. Doesn't really make sense since the more we move the more we run into them. I'm hoping that once I find the place I'll know that its where we should stay."

He looked at me, attentive. "It's just you and Claire?" I nodded my head. "But you guys aren't from around here, right?"

"No, we're from Baltimore. But I used to live outside Atlanta with my dad. I was visiting the place right before everything happened."

"You two have done well on your own," Rick commented.

"Yeah, you know, we've been lucky. We haven't had much trouble. Not like we could." As I was speaking, I noticed Lori stirring. She sat up, suddenly, and I looked at us with wide eyes.

"Is everything okay?" she asked her voice masked in sleep and distress.

I nodded my head. "I looked at Carl. He has no post-op bleeding. He's going to recover fine. I told Rick to keep him off his feet while the stitches heal and to keep the wound clean to stave off infection."

She nodded vigorously. "Okay, okay, yeah, absolutely. Clarke, I really can't thank you enough."

I gave her a close-mouthed smile. "You don't have to." I stood up and glanced between Rick and Lori. "I'll see you guys at the funeral." I pulled the door open and stepped out quickly, smacking into someone hard. I hit their chest, bouncing off of them. The sound of whatever they were carrying hitting the floor cracked loudly in the foyer, and then I felt piercing pain.

"_Jesus,_" someone snapped voice heavy with a southern twang. I bit back the cry that quaked in my throat, feeling for the pain in my thigh. My vision doubled as I raised my hand in front of my face and saw the blood. And then I fainted.


	5. Chapter 4: Who Am I?

When I came to a moment later, I was being set down on a couch in the living room. I glanced down at my leg, noted the arrow poking out of my thigh, and felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. "Jus' pull it out, s'no big deal," someone cried from across the room. I felt a bought of nausea roll over me at the sight of my own blood. It was a weird complex. I could handle anybody else's blood just fine but when it came to mine—not at all.

"What happened?" I heard Maggie say from somewhere in the room.

"Like I said, jus' pull the damn thing out," the same gravelly voice snapped before I felt his presence in front of me. I managed to force my way through my haziness and blocked the arrow with my arm.

"No," I said hoarsely. I felt somebody's arm on my shoulder holding me back and I pushed against him roughly. "GET OFF OF ME."

The room silenced in a moment and I took that time to run a hand through my damp hair as I tried to control my breathing. I blinked a few times to clear my vision and then glanced around the room. There was a bunch of people I didn't even recognize. "I need room—I need air," I barked out looking around the room. I caught Maggie's eyes and made a face.

She immediately jumped into action. "Alright y'all, ya' heard Clarke. Clear the room. It's okay. She's a doctor. Thank ya' but we don't need any more help."

The guy who shot me with his arrow commented, "What kind'er doctor faints at the sight 'er blood?"

I shot him a heated glare. "What kind of person walks into a house with a loaded crossbow?" He returned my hateful look with equal intensity. I snarled in response.

Rick shot Daryl a glance saying, "Alright, everyone let's just calm down. What do you need Clarke?"

I leaned back on the couch, wincing as the pain started to kick in as my adrenaline shot down. "My med bag. It's in the trunk. Where's Claire?"

"I'm here." Claire walked into my line of view, her face a ghastly shade of white. She stared at me with wide eyes while her hands were cupped in front of her.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say this was your plan to get us to stay longer," I said jokingly trying to make her feel better.

Her lip quivered and it looked like she was about to cry. But then she said, "Literally 0% sense of humor."

I smirked. "And 0% patience." I rifled the car keys out of my pocket and held them out to her. "Go get my med bag. I put it in the trunk." She took the keys and then ran off as if it were a matter of life and death, which I believed she thought it was. "I need that ultrasound I used on Carl. I left it in the bedroom." Lori was off getting the machine before Rick could turn. It was silent again in the room. She returned quickly handing me the small machine. I opened the lid so I could view the screen, turned it on, and placed the gel on the either sides of my thigh so I could get a 360 view around the arrow.

Hershel was by my side, crouching to see the screen as well. I placed the prong on my thigh, and moved it slowly around the arrow. He was silent as we both looked at the blurry scan. It wasn't particularly helpful, a CAT scan would've given me more but I could just make out my femoral artery, and the tip of the arrow, which grazed along the side. "You're very lucky," Hershel said.

"I know," I responded. "If it was just a few more to the right."

"Yes, that could've been a problem," Hershel agreed.

Maggie said, "What are ya'll two yammering about? Are you gon' be okay or not?" Just then Claire ran in with the medical bag I needed, dropping it on the couch beside me.

Hershel said, "The arrow din't hit an artery so it can be pulled out."

The man who'd shot me said moving forward once again, "Well alright then, let's take the damn thing out."

"Claire," I said quickly. "Claire will take it out."

Hershel said, "Are you sure?"

I nodded my head, motioning Claire over. "Positive." I opened the medical bag, and pulled out a box of gloves and instructed Claire to put a pair on. I pulled out a package of gauze next. Opening it I pressed it to the side of the arrow. "Hold the gauze down, Claire," I instructed. "And grip the arrow tightly. You need to pull it out completely straight. Don't shift it at all." She nodded her head and a few moments later she had pulled the arrow out and was applying pressure to my thigh. Her face was still colorless, and she was grimacing as she pressed down. I retrieved a sutures kit from the bag as she continued to apply pressure until the bleeding stopped.

By now the room had cleared and Maggie was the only one who remained. "What were the odds, huh?" she commented lightly once Claire let the gauze go and I cleaned the wound before putting a few stitches in it. After applying ointment I bandaged and wrapped it.

"Your place is quickly becoming a hotel," I responded lightly as I packed the medical bag back up. I pushed it towards Claire. "Put it back in the truck please," I said to her. She nodded, grabbing the strap and sliding it onto her shoulder.

Maggie nodded her head. "Rick sure has a group, that's for sure." She stood up then, saying, "He, I'm gonna' get ya' something to eat." Claire returned before Maggie did and joined me on the couch, glancing from my leg to me and back again.

I broke the silence with, "You did a good job. Had a real steady hand."

"Why'd you let me do it?" she asked.

"I don't know these people, but I know you. If you'd have nicked my artery I'd want to kill you but I wouldn't have. Can't say the same for everybody else."

She laughed. "Maybe like 2% sense of humor."

"Oh, so I'm funny when I'm being serious."

Claire asked, "So now what? Are we gonna' stay another night?"

I answered, "We can go back to the house we were staying at until my leg heals." She crossed her arms but didn't say anything. "What is it?"

"Why can't we just stay here? Everyone else is here. Don't you want to be with other people?"

"We can't just intrude on Hershel. We'll stay another night but that's it, Claire." I gestured to the book on the coffee table. "What book is that?"

She picked it up and read, "The Bible."

"Good. Start reading." She looked at me questioningly, and I nodded my head encouragingly.

"You can't be serious?" she said.

"100%."

Early that afternoon we gathered outside to remember Otis. Hershel stood reading from the same Bible I had had Claire read from earlier. "Peace I leave with you," he was saying. "My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. The Gospel according to John." Patricia wanted Shane to speak about his last moments with Otis, which he did reluctantly. There was something about the guy, his stone cold persona that made me bristle and want to keep my distance.

Otherwise, though, Rick's group seemed very friendly. Carol had come in to sit with Claire and I. She quietly listened as Claire read, and then complimented her on her decorum. Claire lapped up the attention. Lori hadn't come out of the room since Carl had woken up, understandably. T-Dog and Glen came in to see how I was doing. T-Dog's arm was healing nicely and he seemed to be in a fairer state today. I got a chance to meet Dale as well, who apologized on behalf of Daryl, the person whose crossbow fired into my thigh.

Dale was particularly likable. He had an easy-going and genuinely caring attitude that even I couldn't stand to be cold towards. I'd briefly met Andrea. She seemed to be going through something and wasn't especially friendly.

I was walking through the makeshift campsite Rick's group had set up with Claire when I heard Shane saying, "We can split up the map into quadrants to look for Sophia." We were headed away from them towards the RV Dale was working on under the hood.

I came up beside it and asked, "Who's Sophia?"

He looked up from under the hood and said, "Glad to see you're able to walk."

"Sophia?" I asked again.

His kind smile dropped. "She's Carol's daughter. She ran off a few days back when a group'a walkers passed by us. Chased her through the woods but lost her trail by night."

My eyebrows went up at his words. Poor Carol. I couldn't imagine being in her position. But then a small part of me thought how could she just let her daughter run off like that either? I shook my head, and said, "Thanks Dale." I turned around and started back towards Shane and the group he was speaking to.

When I got up to him I said, "I want to help look."

Shane, Daryl, Rick, and Maggie all turned to look at me. Shane said, "Alright, then, we've got an area off west that needs to be checked out."

Daryl snapped, "She ain't one of us. We don' need yer help."

I snapped back, "You've got a child missing in the woods somewhere. Sounds like you need a lot more than my help." Daryl sent me a heated look; I returned it.

Rick nodded his head. "We've got a lot'a ground to cover. The more help we can get the better."

I smirked. "Then it's settled." I grabbed Claire's arm and started leading her back towards the farmhouse. "You're to stay inside while I'm gone."

"No way," she cried. "I'm going with you." I shook my head. "You shouldn't even be going! Your leg is all types of messed up." Admittedly, it hurt like hell, but it wasn't hindering my ability to walk and if push came to shove I could run, too.

"This isn't up for debate," I said making my way to our truck so I could grab my weapons. I opened the passenger door, grabbed a handgun from the console, and slipped it into the back pocket of my shorts. I'd overheard Hershel talking to Rick about the use of weapons on his property and how he wouldn't allow it but with the flannel wrapped around my waist, the gun was concealed.

"You're right. It's not. I'm coming with you," she said with finality reaching in for her own knives. If I was being honest, I felt better having her with me then leaving her on the farm. I didn't know these people, and they didn't know me. They owed me nothing. If something were to happen, who was going to look out for Claire?

Despite Daryl's distaste for us joining the search party, Claire and I took off towards the area Shane wanted us to scout, and spent the afternoon traipsing through the woods. We'd gone through an empty barn and house and came up with nothing. As the afternoon drew on, I decided it was time to head back. "So what's for dinner tonight?" Claire asked as we continued walking.

"Mmmm, how 'bout tuna fish and rice?" Claire made a sound of disgust. I laughed. "We've got a lot of rice, so we're definitely having rice. You need a vegetable. Carrots, maybe?" We were walking and talking we hadn't even noticed the sound of footsteps beside us, on the other side of a set of bushes.

"I miss McDonalds!" she said with a decrepit sigh.

"There is quite a lot I miss, McDonalds is definitely—." I cut myself off when Daryl stepped into our path toting that damned crossbow. I immediately put my hands up mockingly. "Don't shoot—_again._"

He glared at me. "Oh whatever, yer the one that came barrelin' int'a _me._ Knocked my damn crossbow right outta' my hands."

Before I could respond, Claire said, "That thing's cool. I wish I knew had to use one."

Daryl glanced at me, and, momentarily, I didn't think he was even going to acknowledge Claire. He didn't really strike me as someone who took to kids. But then he said, "I could give ya' a lesson er two. That is if yer mom'll let ya'." He glanced at me again.

I grimaced, crying, "I'm not her mom."

Claire barked at the same time, "She's not my mom!"

"Yeah, you wish I was your mom, kid." I jostled her playfully.

"Oh, my mistake," Daryl mumbled. An infected fell onto our path, stumbling towards us. Daryl instantly raised his crossbow, ready to strike.

"I got it!" Claire cried pulling the knife I'd given her out of the holster on her shorts. I raised a warning hand to Daryl who hadn't put down his crossbow.

"Let her," I said glancing at him before returning my gaze to Claire. She was making her way slowly towards the infected. It was reaching out for her as it walked. She picked up a stick on the ground and then swung it at the back of its legs, knocking it to down. She then pressed the branch against its body to keep it down, and then crouched down, slamming her knife into its head.

She removed it quickly, wiped her knife on its shirt, and then returned it to its holster. "How was that?" she asked looking at me expectantly.

I started walking again, responding, "Good. I like your use of the surroundings." She smiled, large and genuine, putting her hand out for a high five. I met it with him, feeling something warm in the bottom of my stomach but something cold too. What kind of world it was where I was giving Claire accolades for being able to kill an undead person.

Daryl was behind us now, and I heard him mutter, "Who in the hell are you two?"

Claire was still smiling, gloating in her kill and didn't catch his comment. I glanced back at him, saying, "Wouldn't you like to know."


	6. Chapter 5: Join Us

The next morning I woke to an empty bed. Claire and I had turned down for the night at about eight, but I'd stayed up reading long after Claire had fallen asleep beside me. She was hard to sleep with that was for sure. She hogged the covers, and snored this soft, chuckling sound most of the night. Noting the lack of her presence panicked me, and I quickly tossed the cotton shorts and tank top I'd gone to sleep in into my bag, and pulled a pair of light washed shorts on. I slipped a bralette over my head as I sat on the bed and pulled socks onto my feet.

Shoving my feet into my heavy Doc Martens, I grabbed a flannel and buttoned it as I waltzed out the door. I had braided my hair the night before to keep from getting knotted as I slept and I undid the French braid as I took off down the stairs. "Claire," I called strolling into the living room. The room was empty and I continued into the kitchen where Beth and Patricia were sitting at the kitchen table.

"Mornin'," they both greeted in a friendly tone.

"Morning," I responded distractedly. "You guys didn't happen to see Claire anywhere?"

Beth answered, "Yeah. I saw her head outside with Maggie. Think she was gonna' show her the horses." I nodded my head as a thank you and took off outside. I was headed towards the Horse's stable when I caught sight of Claire and Maggie by the chicken coop. It looked like Maggie was showing Claire how to get the eggs, and she was within my line of view that I didn't feel a pressing concern to interrupt.

"Mornin' Clarke," Rick greeted coming up beside me.

"Mornin'," I responded easily. "Hey, do you need help again today? Lookin' for Sophia?"

Rick shook his head. "That's real nice of ya' Clarke. But we got Daryl, Shane, and Jimmy out there lookin' for her." He glanced towards Claire and Maggie. " I gotta' ask ya', who's Claire to you? Daryl told the group she wasn't your kid…"

I failed to contain my smirk. "Have you guys been talking about us?"

Rick shifted, shaking his head with a laugh. "Heh, I'll admit you've been quite the topic among the group."

My brow furrowed. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

He crossed his arms, responding, "You know how women like to gossip…"

"Somehow I imagine if your wife had any questions for me, she'd have no problem asking 'em."

He laughed. "Yeah, well, Lori has b'come very straight forward these days."

"There are worse traits to have," I said with a shrug. "So was everyone saying Claire was my kid? I don't know why everyone assumes that…I would've been fifteen when I had her."

"Yeahhhh," he responded slowly. "Gotta' tell you its not the most absurd idea, all things considered."

He was referring to the zombie apocalypse we were thrown into. Nodding, I said, "She was my neighbor. We lived in the same apartment complex."

He said, seemingly out of the blue, "You ever think 'bout travelin' with a group?"

I didn't think it was a serious question so I didn't treat it like one. "Why? Are you offering?"

Rick nodded solemnly. "Yes, actually. I am."

I immediately went on the defense. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're a doctor. I know you saved my boy's life. That's more than enough to go on." He looked very sincere with his words, and I thought if that was enough to go on I really shouldn't—_couldn't_ trust his judgment, or the people he had in his group.

"I wasn't going to," I snapped crisply. "Maggie came and told me what happened. And I was still going to leave."

"Yeah, but you din't," he answered simply. I stared, aghast ready to retort. But he started to walk away before I could. "Ya' don't have to make a decision now. Just know the offer stands."

I scoffed before I turned and started towards the RV Dale was working on. His head was perched under the hood and I came up beside him, leaning against the door waiting for him to notice my presence. He lifted his head, shirked back with surprise, but then wiped his hands on the rag he had nearby saying, "How's your leg?"

I glanced down at it. "It's fine, I guess. Manageable."

He asked, "Are you going out looking for Sophia today?"

I shook my head. "I offered but Rick says he has it covered." I shrugged. "I need to look at a map and figure out where Claire and I will be heading, anyway."

He regarded me thoughtfully. "Was it always you two travelin' together?"

Something about him reminded me of my father—perhaps his gentle nature and soft eyes. I found myself opening up to him without thought. "Yeah, we were staying in my dad's home outside Atlanta before everything happened. And then a few weeks in we started driving. I'm trying to find a place where we can hind out."

He nodded understandingly. "A sanctuary."

"Exactly," I responded.

He hesitated a moment before saying, "I heard yours and Rick's conversation just a moment ago. I know you don't wanna' join us. But I'm curious why the reservations?"

I thought over his words and then surprised myself by saying, "It's not that I haven't given it thought. But it's safer for Claire if she's just with me. We draw less attention. I only have to worry about feeding her, watching her, taking care of her. Rick has a son, you guys have Sophia to look for, and a group of people to take care of. That is a lot of responsibility. And if I joined your group that responsibility would fall on me."

He nodded understandingly. "But that's the give and take of a group. You become responsible for others but they become responsible for you and Claire."

"I can't take that chance; I don't trust anyone to take care of her but me."

"For someone who isn't her mother, you sure have the maternal instinct."

I smirked giving a chuckle. "Ah, she grows on ya', I guess. I've known her for so long I feel like I raised her." Dale was quiet as we both stared at Claire, giggling as she chased after one of the chickens, arm reaching out for it.

He turned to me abruptly, and said, "You should think about it." I started to object but he continued, "We would only benefit from having you in the group. I know I don't know you, and you don't know us, but I can tell you're a good person. The way you take care of her—it's evident. We could use someone like you in the group. And I think you'd benefit, too, from having us. It'd give you a moment to breathe, to know she'd be okay if you turned your back for a second. I hope you really think about it."

Dale went back to working on the RV and I stalked off, considering his words. Maggie noticed me passing and said, "Mornin' Clarke."

I offered a tentative smile. "Hey."

"Your leg seems better," she said as she picked up the chicken Claire had been chasing and put it back in the coop. "Have you eaten?" I shook my head as a response.

"Why don't you come into the kitchen with me? I was just telling Claire she could have some scrambled eggs for breakfast." I wasn't about to turn down a decent meal and followed Maggie inside. Carol was in the kitchen with the blonde woman who'd all but ignored me the last time I saw her. She seemed extremely cold, and glanced my way before stalking out of the room.

Patricia had left the room but Beth remained, sitting at the kitchen table filming through a book. "You guys can sit," Maggie said as she moved to the stove and started retrieving the necessary utensils to cook. Claire took the seat next to Beth and I leaned against the doorframe, looking around the room.

Carol was sitting at the table as well, and said to Claire, "And how old are you, Claire?" Claire glanced at me and I gave a small nod to let her know she was free to engage. I felt bad for Carol. I could only imagine how upset she was that her daughter was missing, particularly because she appeared basically incapable of going out on her own to look for her. She was lucky that her group was willing to.

"Thirteen," Claire responded with a smile. Carol smiled and started talking about her daughter, Sophia. Claire was easy to converse with and maintained conversation while Maggie cooked. I stood up, and offered to help her. I was beating eggs while she scrambled them on the stove.

She said, "Y'know, I thought for a minute there that you were a real hard ass."

I felt myself grin but bit it back, responding, "You think otherwise now?"

She shook her head, smiling back at me. "I think you want people to think you're more of a hardass than ya' actually are." My instinctual reaction was to be offended by her words, but with Claire a few feet away, as well as Carol, it wasn't a good place to start something with Maggie.

I mumbled back, "I'm not the most personable…person around. But the perk of this apocalypse is that I don't need to be."

"I hear ya' but I really don't believe you mean that," Maggie responded as she started shoveling eggs onto plates.

"You don't even know me," I hissed trying to keep my voice low.

Maggie was still smiling, "No but I'm beginning to."

While Claire helped Lori and Carol cook dinner, I told Lori I'd stay in the room with Carl and keep him some company. He was mostly asleep for the afternoon but by the evening he'd woken up, mumbling in pain. I'd talked to Lori about slowly weaning Carl off of all the painkillers; he'd only had a set in the morning, so I counted out two pills and then helped him to a sitting position. He took the pills and swallowed them down with the glass of water on the nightstand beside him. "My mom said you saved my life," he said quietly, settling into the pillows. "She said I had to thank you."

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, I laughed. "Well you don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, I mean I should thank you. I want to thank you. Thank you."

"No worries, Carl. You gave me a surgery and I haven't had one of those in a while."'

He looked at me with wide eyes. "You got to see my insides?"

Chuckling, I answered, "Yeah pretty cool, huh?"

His expression was nothing short of awe as he asked, "What did they look like?"

"Oh, you know once I suctioned some of the blood I could make out…scales, and some of it was orange…a bit of green with leaves growing off of your stomach. You must eat a lot of vegetables," I said seriously and his face vacillated from surprise to dubious.

"No way!" he said with a small grin. I went to respond but Lori was walking in before I could. I turned to look at her, the smile I was wearing diminishing in a second.

"Hey baby, how ya' feelin'?" she said to Carl softly, and I got up so she could take the seat on the bed. "Did you say thank you to Clarke?"

He nodded saying, "Yes mom." He grinned, then, laughing. "Clarke told me my insides are green and orange and have leaves on them from eating vegetables."

"Well, that can't be true since I can hardly get you to stomach a vegetable," Lori responded with a laugh of her own. Carl made a face that had Lori and me laughing but our laughter was quickly clipped off by the sound of a gunshot firing outside. Lori jumped up, her face ridden with panic. "What was that?" She made her way over to the window to peak out as I exited the room, trying to find Claire.

She was still in the kitchen, peeling potatoes at the table with Carol. "Was that a gunshot I heard?" Carol asked as Hershel came waltzing into the room. I was about to respond when the front door opened and heavy footsteps came running in.

"We need Clarke!" I heard Rick cry. I glanced at Claire who was staring at me wide-eyed. She got up, following me into the living room where Rick and Shane were holding Daryl on his feet. He was pretty dirty and I couldn't tell what was the injury until I noticed the blood pouring from a wound on his head.

Claire reached into the pocket of my shorts, grabbing the car key while murmuring, "I'll get your bag." I walked over to Daryl; he was unconscious and the wound in his head appeared superficial but I couldn't tell with all the blood in the way.

Hershel said, "You can bring him upstairs. There's a bedroom up there for him." He said in it a sort of clipped way that made me believe Hershel wasn't particularly happy about the whole matter. Whatever had happened; which made me wonder what _did_ happen.

"What happened?" I asked, looking to Glenn for an answer since Rick and Shane were bringing Daryl upstairs. We followed behind them.

"Uh…Andrea thought he was a walker—she accidentally clipped him."

"And Andrea is…?" I asked as we moved towards the bedroom Hershel was prepping.

"Tall blonde," Glenn answered. The cold woman, I realized. Claire came trotting up the stairs with my bag in hand, and I took it from her, waltzing into the room to do what I did best. I set it on a chair by the bed they'd laid Daryl in and took out a set of gloves, sliding them on, before ripping open a bulky dressing and pressing it to the side of his head.

"I need a towel and maybe a bucket with some water—preferably hot if that's possible," I said as I kept the pressure on his head. I applied pressure till it stopped bleeding and by then Rick came back with a large bowl of hot water and a clean towel. I took them from him before sitting on the edge of the bed and removing the dress so I could clean the wound and see it better.

"Is he gon' be alright?" Rick asked standing near the doorway. Everyone else had cleared the room, except for Claire who was standing at the end of the bed. I cleared the wound, and parted his scalp to see that the bullet had only grazed his skin.

"Yea', it's not too bad. Superficial wounds bleed a lot but there's no real damage." I reached into my bag, and pulled out a small box. Inside was an array of surgical glue. I didn't think it was necessary to run sutures through his scalp since the wound was hardly deep at all. I pulled out some antiseptic solution, and applied it with an antimicrobial gauze pads. After cleaning the wound significantly, I opened the dermabound packet, and sat up so I could get better access and make sure I sealed the wound effectively. Holding onto the side of Daryl's face, I tipped his head down on an angle, and started to fill in the wound.

He came to a moment later, grabbing onto my waist and pushing me away from him with a grunt. I held onto his face, pressing forward. "If you don't stop I'm gonna' get all this glue on your face!" I cried as Rick came over on the opposite side and pushed Daryl down.

"Get off er' me!" he snapped trying to push back Rick. I lifted the tube of glue, sitting away from him.

"Do as he asks," I told Rick calmly. "He doesn't want to be treated, I won't." I looked at Daryl seriously; his expression was pretty annoyed. "If I don't close that wound it's going to get infected. I don't have to tell you what'll happen next." He stared, stubbornly. "Or maybe I do? It's going to start to smell, and seeing as you sleep in a tent, you'll probably notice bugs in it, too."

"Alright," he snapped gruffly.

I glanced at Rick before leaning forward, and instructing Daryl, "You need to lean your head down a bit." Even while sitting, he was a head taller than me, which said something because I was pretty tall myself. I finished gluing the wound closed, before blowing on it to get it to dry. Daryl flinched when I did but I ignored it, gentling running my finger along his scalp before I sat back again.

Rick was staring at Daryl, or rather his stomach, with a serious expression. "Were you bit?" he asked seriously.

Daryl looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes narrowed. "No."

Rick gestured to his side. "Then what's that?"

"I got bucked off that damn horse, 'n one of my arrows cut me." Rick looked at me like I was supposed to confirm his story or something. I looked at Daryl questioningly. "Yeah, alright." He shifted, lifting the side of his dirty, ripped shirt to reveal his bloody side. I picked up the bowl I'd used to clean his head, and dipped the towel in it before dabbing at his side. He tensed at my touch, but then relaxed as I worked away the dirt and dried blood from his wound.

"It looks like a puncture. You're lucky you didn't hit your spleen." He didn't say anything, just sort of grunted as if that was a response. I said, "I'll have to stitch this." I reached into my bag, looking for the suture kit.

Rick asked, "Daryl, if I get a map can you point to where you found Sophia's doll?" This was news to me, that Daryl had found something of Sophia's, and I stopped my search, to look between them. Daryl gave a short nod, and Rick walked out, presumably to get a map.

I held up a vial of Lidocaine. "Do you want to me to numb it before I do stitches?" Daryl grunted again and shook his head. "Is that a no?" He made a face. "Are you sure?" He made another noise, and I assumed that meant no. "Okay, then," I mumbled before I got to work on his stitches. Daryl tried to remain unmoving as I worked the needle through his skin but I knew that he regretted not numbing the area. _Whatever,_ I thought. _He was the stubborn one._

Once I finished the sutures, I lined the wound with antibacterial ointment, and then covered with it a sterilized dressing, taping it down. All the while Claire stared, not once making a sound. I thought her quiet attentiveness would've made her a good intern if the situation were different. Like if we weren't in some weird zombie apocalypse in the middle of bumblefuck Georgia.

"You'll have to have the stitches in for at least a week, and you should take it easy or you'll reopen that wound," I told him not that he was listening to anything that I was saying. I removed my gloves, tossing them a trashcan by the nightstand. I put my things back in the bag and nodded towards Claire. Rick was walking back into the room wielding a map, that he laid down on the bed.

"Thanks Clarke," Rick said probably knowing that Daryl wasn't going to say thank you. I nodded to him once, before walking out with Claire. Claire and I returned downstairs where dinner was just about to begin. We joined the very full table on the end. Claire was next to the edge, and I was next to Maggie who was sitting next to Glenn. Carol, Lori, Beth, and Patricia were across from us. Hershel was at the head with Shane next to him, and T-Dog on his right.

"How's Daryl?" Carol asked with nothing but concern in her voice.

I answered, "He'll be alright. He came to while I was fixing up his head. He had a pretty nasty wound on his side, too. He'll be fine, though."

Carol nodded and offered a small smile. "Oh, that's good. We're very lucky you're here, Clarke."

Lori nodded. "I don't even want to think what could've happened if you weren't here." I knew she was talking about Carl and I thought at the very least she would've had Hershel work on him and that might've saved his life but, still, I understood what she was getting at. "And we're happy you're here, too, Claire," Lori added, pulling Claire into the conversation. She was busy enjoying the meal, eating rather obnoxiously with a full munch.

I nudged her, muttering, "Manners, come on." She turned to glare at me before swallowing her mouthful.

"Oh, I have to bring Carl a plate," Lori said suddenly standing up to go make a plate.

"His appetite's returned?" I asked. "That's good."

Lori nodded. "Yeah, but you know kids. He wants junk to snack on instead of real food. Not that there's an abundance of options."

"You know," I said. "Why don't you have Claire bring Carl a plate, and you can finish your dinner? Claire you don't mind, do you? You can bring your food with you." Lori turned to look at us with an appreciative smile, nodding her head. Claire turned to me, shrugged, and then got up taking the plate from Lori, and grabbing hers before she walked out.

I didn't Claire realized what the implication of the move was, having her go eat with Carl. But I figured if I was considering joining the group, it wasn't just about me getting to know everybody, but Claire as well.


	7. Chapter 6: Not Like But Like-Like

The next morning Claire wanted to sleep in. She stayed up pretty the night before chatting with Carl but I ushered her out of bed. "Why?" she groaned in response when I told her she needed to get dressed pronto. It was hot and sticky at night, and she started wearing one of my tank tops to bed which functioned as a dress on her.

"Because we're going to train before it gets really hot," I responded easily brushing my hair into a ponytail with my fingers. The room we were staying in at Hershel's was pretty small, with one window that did nothing to ventilate. I was sweating most of the night. I turned to the dresser where one of my bags laid with clothes. I'd initially been pretty modest with Claire, but now it seemed basically useless since we'd spent many nights sleeping in the car and bathing in creaks.

I tugged on a sports bra, and then grabbed some black mesh shorts. I picked out two knives from my bag, sliding on an ankle holster, before slipping a knife into it. I slipped my feet into some sneakers looking at Claire expectantly. "Should I be putting on sports clothing?" Claire asked incredulously as she looked at me. I nodded my head with a big grin.

"We're training! Get pumped!" I told her bouncing on the balls of my feet as I punched the air. My ponytail swung against my bare back, and my movements immediately winded me. I was so damned hot; it was unbelievable. I had to forfeit a shirt because of the heat or I might've passed out.

"What does that even mean?" she asked as she changed into a pair of shorts, and pulled on a tee shirt.

"Here, strap this to your leg." I tossed Claire a knife sheath, and she did as I instructed. I handed her the knife to slip into it. She sat down on the bed to put her sneakers on. Claire had one set of sneakers we'd snatched at an outlet mall in the beginning of our travels. She'd picked them out; they were bright salmon pink Nikes. She looked at me once she was ready and I tossed her a deodorant stick.

"You need to get into the habit," I told her. She rolled her eyes before applying some. She wasn't a "woman" so to speak yet, but puberty was well on its way. She was beginning to smell and I had to keep reminding her to put on deodorant. "Alright, come on." Claire followed me downstairs and out the front door of the Green farmhouse. It was very early, almost seven o'clock and practically nobody was awake. Dale was up though, perched on top of the RV looking around the field.

"Mornin' Dale," I called civilly, jabbing Claire in the arm. "Manners," I muttered.

"Hi Dale," Claire called with a smile.

"Morning girls," Dale replied. "Where are you two off to so early in the morning?"

"We're training," Claire said kind of mockingly.

"We're going to do some laps through the woods. Get active. Y'know." I shrugged.

Dale looked down at us seriously. "You two be careful out there." A small smile brushed my lips before I could help it. I nodded solemnly before leading Claire through the field. My strides were longer than hers so she had to walk twice as fast to keep up with me.

"Can I ask why we're up at oh-clock traipsing through the woods?"

I told her, "Just because you can kill one of those dead things doesn't make you invincible. We gotta' stay on top of our game." Claire didn't respond but kept along silently till I led us a decent way into the woods. I picked up a trail and decided we'd start by jogging. Claire was not happy to be jogging through the woods and kept telling me so. Once we'd run a decent length, I stopped us to do jumping jacks.

"This blows!" Claire snapped between deep breaths.

"This, my friend, is fitness. Come on, let's do another jog." I took off, glancing back at Claire coaxing her with a shake of my head. She followed after a moment, and we reworked the path back towards Hershel's farm. We spent at least an hour just running through the forest, jumping over things in our path, and winding through different paths of trees. When we'd finally exhausted ourselves we sat down in a path of grass near a creak to catch our breaths.

"Alright," Claire said. "I wanna' know why we're running like chickens with no heads."

"Without any heads, come on, Claire. Watch your grammar." She glared at my response, her eyes squinting in anger. "I know you can take down one of those dead things, I do. You've gotten good with your knife and a gun. _But_ if there's a group of them, I don't care how skilled you may think you are, you're not going to win. You need to be able to run, you need to be able to evade them. I need you have to faster reflexes, and better stamina."

"You could've just told me that," Claire snapped. "I thought we were running cause you were trying to get slim for one of those boys." She said it all very accusatorily.

I barked out a hard laugh. "Excuse me?"

Her cheeks were pink whether from the accusation or from running I didn't know. "Oh come on, I'm not oblivious! You totally like-like Daryl."

My eyebrows came down hard on my eyes as I stared at her confused. "Daryl as in the hick who shot with me his arrow? No, no way."

"Uh huh," Claire mumbled. "And he shot you on accident! Plus I saw the way you were looking at him when you were fixing his head. And the way he looked at you."

"Claireeee," I practically groaned. "Ew nooo."

"Okay, okay." She held her hands. "Whatever you say."

I shook my head. "Never in a million years. He's not my type."

"You don't have a type," she responded. "You hardly ever brought anyone back to your apartment back home. And when you did, its not like they ever came around again!"

"Claire!" I cried blushing. "This is not a conversation we're having!" I couldn't even believe Claire had noticed my sex partners and was actually bringing them up now. "Come on, let's do one last jog." She rolled her eyes before getting up and we got back onto the path, taking off deeper into the woods. We were running pretty steadily when Claire decided she wanted to race back to the farm.

"Oh you're on!" I called before I took off. We were both laughing as she trailed behind me trying to gain a lead but, like I said, my strides were much longer than hers and I had no problem keeping ahead of her. It wasn't until I was nearing the farm that I noticed that I couldn't hear her laughter or her feet behind me. I stopped, turning around, and then panic ripped through me. "Claire!" I cried looking around frantically. "CLAIRE!" This time my voice left me so loudly I was sure that everyone on the farm would've heard me.

I took off back down the path looking all over for Claire. I trained my ears trying to pick up any sound that might be her when I heard the distinct groaning of something that was most definitely not alive. "Fuck," I muttered peering through the shrubs trying to find the thing. It's head popped up by a tree. I took my knife out of my holster on my ankle, and then moved towards quickly. It noticed me and I kicked its legs, knocking it down before I crouched to stab it in the head. I quickly wiped its blood on its shirt, before moving back onto the path.

"Claire!" I called again and then I picked up the sound of her footsteps and heavy breathing. I turned around looking for her. Desperate to find her. And then I saw her running between the trees. Her face was pulled in distress and I took off towards her without even thinking. Sweat was dripping down my back, and my breath was hard to manage but I had to get to her.

"Clarke," she cried when she noticed me stopping in her tracks as I jogged towards her. Then I saw them—three infecteds coming right for her.

"Run," I snapped so loudly it felt like my parched throat was going to rip on the words. She didn't debate with me, just took off and I swung at the first one, my knife crunching through its skull before I pulled it away and moved away from the other one reaching out for me. I circled them quickly, disorienting them with enough time to stab one from behind. I held its dead body in front of me as a barrier between the other as I worked to get my knife out of its skull. It tried to reach around the dead infected, decaying arms going for me, but I couldn't get my damned knife out of the skull.

I didn't need to though, as a knife came plunging through its occipital lobe. Claire was standing behind it, both of her arms straining to reach the infecteds head so she could plunge her knife through it. I was panting as I finally worked my knife out of the other one's skull. Their bodies slumped to the ground and Claire looked at me, her whole body sagging with exhaustion. Wordlessly, she came towards me and hugged me. "I understand now," she said.

And we left it at that.

We walked back to the farm slowly, trying to regain our breaths and cool down. My whole body was slicked in sweat, and I was still sort of trembling with post-almost death adrenaline. Claire was uncharacteristically silent as she sort of led me back towards the house. Rick's group was huddled around a small campfire eating breakfast together. The blonde—Andrea—looked up at us as we were passing. "Hey, uh, Clarke? Is Daryl…is he okay?"

I stopped, so Claire stopped too, and gave a short nod. "He'll be fine."

She gave a tentative smile, but there was a grimace behind it almost like she didn't like me or something. Which I didn't really care if she did or not but considering she didn't know me I was curious why she felt that way. "Thanks," she responded crisply.

Dale glanced back at us, and asked, "And how did your run go?"

The whole groups' eyes were on Claire and I. It made me feel inexplicably scrutinized even if they weren't judging us and I got defensive for no reason other than the fact I was uncomfortable. "It was fine." I walked away before anyone else could ask any questions and Claire followed me over to our truck. I opened the door to the backseat, getting out two water bottles from the twelve pack that was there.

"Hydrate. I don't want you to get sick," I told Claire handing her a bottle. She uncapped it immediately and took a long drink.

"Can I go hang out with Carl?" she asked her eyes big and questionable. I looked over to where Lori and Carl were, in the pen with the chickens feeding them.

"Yeah, go ahead. But no wandering past Dale's RV, got it? And keep that knife on you." Claire nodded enthusiastically before bounding towards Carl. Lori looked up and made eye contact with me offering a wave. I waved back before closing the car door, pocketing the key, and heading into the farmhouse.

"Wow, Clarke, hey," Maggie said as she came down the stairs. "You look like you jus' run a marathon."

I laughed. "Something like that."

She looked curious. "Were you working out?"

"Claire and I went for a run through the forest. Stuck to one of the trails." I shrugged.

"You must be starved. We've got fresh milk from the cows and cereal if you're interested. Afraid it's just some plain stuff." I nodded my head appreciatively and followed Maggie into the kitchen. "Morning Beth," I said to the younger Green who was busy fixing herself something to eat. She offered a smile with no words and went back to what she was doing. Maggie got me a bowl and a spoon and handed me the cereal. I poured some and then took some milk appreciatively.

"Thanks," I said between a bite. "I really appreciate your hospitality."

Maggie nodded, leaning against the counter. "Are you thinking of stickin' with Rick's group?"

I said, "Thinking about it."

She nodded her head. "Y'know it might be a good idea. Not to be a downer 'er anythin' but if somethin' were to happen to you, at least you'd know Claire had people to look after her."

I stared at her, and realized she was right. I hadn't even thought about what would happen to Claire if something happened to me. Claire was adapting well to this lifestyle. She was a survivor and I had faith that she would continue to survive but she couldn't drive a car, or start a fire. She needed someone to help her out. By keeping us isolated from others, I thought I was keeping Claire safe but I realized now I might've been putting her at risk the whole time. "Fair point, well made," I told Maggie my tone empty. "If you'll excuse me."

I walked out of the kitchen and made my way back outside holding onto the bowl. Claire was where I'd left her, helping Carl and Lori feed the chickens. She noticed me walking up and broke away from them to meet me at the gate. "Miss me already?" she asked cheekily, a grin plastered on her face.

I rolled my eyes. "Thought you might want some cereal? Worked up a real appetite." I took one more bite before handing the bowl to her. She was more than happy to pick up where I left off finishing off the cereal at an insanely fast pace.

Rick walked up to me as I was waiting for Claire to finish slurping down the milk saying, "I was wonderin' if you wouldn't mind checkin' in on Daryl? I know he can be a real hard ass but uh he is family and Andrea feels real bad about it all and I'd hate for something to happen to him."

I nodded my head understandingly. "Yeah, yeah I don't mind." I looked back at Claire, who was tipping the bowl up to her face and had to hold back a laugh. "You good?" I asked her and she smiled guiltily before handing back the bowl and spoon. I took it from her before walking back inside and setting them into the sink. I then set off upstairs heading into the room Claire and I were staying in. I had a pen light in my bag that I grabbed, as well as my stethoscope and blood pressure cuff.

I walked up to the room Daryl was in and knocked lightly. Not expecting him to say anything, I opened the door slowly. He was propped up in the bed, reading a book of all things, but quickly shoved it under his pillow when I entered. "Rick sent me up; he wants me to make sure you're doing okay," I said as way of explanation walking over to his bed and setting my things on it.

He stared at me passively, and then grunted, "I'm fine, don' need nobody to check on me. Was about to get up anyways." He shifted, moving to stand and I reached out instinctively, holding him back by his shoulder. He turned his head slowly looking at my hand and then up my arm to my face.

"You need to rest," I said sternly.

"I did 'nough of that last night. Gotta' go find that girl. I'm the only one who will."

"You're wrong," I told him. "Rick is probably getting people to search now."

"Doubtful," he snapped shrugging my hand off of him. "Ain't nobody care."

"Hey, I'll go and look if that's what you want. But you need to stay in bed. If something happens to you Andrea's gonna' be beside herself." I didn't know why I was speaking on behalf of Andrea of all people but I felt a pressing concern to make sure Daryl was okay and that meant keeping him off his feet. And then I heard Claire's voice in the back of my head: _'__You totally like-like Daryl!'_ I grimaced at the thought.

"She shouldn't uh gone and shot me then," he retorted but seemed to relax back into the bed. "Whatever. You don't owe it tuh anybody tuh go look for 'er."

"That wouldn't be the reason I would go looking, anyway," I snapped mimicking his gruff tone without being aware I was doing it. He stared at me, squinting slightly, like he was trying to figure something out. "Look, all I have to do is check your vitals and then I'll be out of here." He went back to his way of grunting and shrugged his shoulders. I rolled my eyes, picking up the pen light, moving closer to the head of the bed. "Look straight ahead," I instructed, flashing the light on his left eye before doing the same to the right.

I got an equal response, which was a good indicator that he didn't have any bleeding in his brain. I picked up the blood pressure cuff next, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Daryl shifted away from me; I couldn't tell if he was trying to give me room or if he just didn't want to be next to me. The later felt offensive. I reached out for his arm but he flinched away from me. "I need it to check your blood pressure." He pressed his lips together but let me take hold of his forearm, spreading his arm against my thighs. I wrapped the cuff around his bicep snuggly, before putting my stethoscope in and pressing against his side of his bicep so I could pick up his pulse.

The room was silent save for his breathing, which I was keenly aware of with my stethoscope in my ears. It seemed to intensify the sounds of his breath. I was quick to read his blood pressure, which was normal before I requested one last thing from him. I took the stethoscope out of my ears, saying, "I just want to check your stitches and make sure its not infected."

He looked at me like I was crazy and didn't make any effort to move as I removed the blood pressure cuff. Grinding his jaw, he turned towards me slightly, lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal his side. I focused on the bandage, tenderly lifting it so I could look at the wound. The skin around the stitches was red but it didn't present any signs of sepsis.

"Have you been having any headaches?" I asked as I resealed the bandage and took my hands off his lean stomach. He shook his head. "And have you been feeling nauseous at all?" Again, another shake. "I'm not asking these questions to be a pain in the ass. They're actually important."

He met my gaze equally. "How'd ya' manage to stay alive? You n' the girl? All on your own?"

I picked up my things, getting off the bed and backing up towards the door. "Kill or be killed," I answered simply and then added, "If you start to feel nauseous or get a really bad headache let someone know. Otherwise your brain will hemorrhage and you'll find yourself dead before you can even say 'Damn, should'a listened to Clarke'." I thought I saw him smirk, maybe he found what I said funny, but I didn't stop to ponder it, exiting quickly with the burning sensation of Claire's words in my head.


End file.
